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“Look, barkeeper, I'm a peaceful man. Fairly normal. I don't sniff armpits or wear ladies' underwear. But everywhere I go, somebody is pushing shots at me, they give me no rest. Why is this?”
“I think you got it comin' somehow.”
“Well, Eddie, you stop thinking and see if you can fix me a double vodka and tonic, touch of lime.”
“We don't got no lime.”
“Yeah, you have. I can see it from here.”
“That lime's not for you.”
“Yeah? Who's it for? Elizabeth Taylor? Now, if you want to sleep in your own bed tonight, I'll have that lime. In my drink. Pronto.”
Pulp
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